On Hold
by windscryer
Summary: Tony wakes up and finds he's not alone. The gorgeous red-head next to him is usually up long before he is. He's sure as hell not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. [Post-Avengers] [Pepperony]


Disclaimer: Not mine. Sad, but true.

* * *

Tony is not an alarm clock kind of person. Some people find that weird because apparently being an electronics kind of person somehow means he should like alarm clocks.

That makes no sense to him, but, _eh_, people. He works with electronics for a reason.

Also, the part of his personality devoted to never doing what he's told to do is way bigger than the part that likes to invent things. Shocking, but true.

So, yes. Not an alarm clocks kind of person.

Pepper, on the other hand, lives and dies by her Blackberry's calendar.

Tony knows this is true because when he tried to surprise her with a weekend away that was totally not a kidnapping attempt whatever she says, the part that seemed to upset her the most was that he'd left her Blackberry behind.

She could still access her phone numbers thanks to her phone book being co-located on her computer, but her calendar was, apparently, not the same.

And it made All The Difference.

This is not to say that Pepper is uptight. She's organized and incredible and all-knowing, but never uptight.

So when Tony wakes up on a Wednesday morning at almost eleven AM according to the display JARVIS flashed on the wall, and finds Pepper curled up around him, one arm flung across his chest and her legs twined with his, there's a healthy dose of confusion and worry that puts a helluva dampener on the happiness caused by, well, waking up to Pepper curled up around him.

But only a temporary one because, you know, Pepper.

In fact, it's a pleasant enough sensation that he gives honest-to-God thought to getting an alarm clock so he can wake up to this more often.

He quickly shakes it off, but the fact remains it was there.

And it's surprisingly tempting.

Tony's usual priorities upon waking up are to establish where and when he is (thank you, Afghanistan), if there is anyone nearby (sincere thank you, countless ladies before Pepper and, less sincerely so, Afghanistan), and then spend a few minutes thinking about his day and what sort of priorities he might have waiting to ambush him (this is a complex source and involves even more complex feelings, so he tries to just think about the list of possibilities and not why he does it).

Today he knows immediately when and where he is because of Pepper, and also who he was with because of the same, and then he finds the last question strangely unanswerable.

Because if _Pepper_ is here... what alternate reality is this?

And it says something about his life choices that "alternate reality" is his first explanation for waking up to his girlfriend in his arms on a late Wednesday morning. It really does.

Pepper stirs then, humming low in her throat as she shifts a little bit.

He looks at her, watching as her hand moved down to rest on his stomach instead of under his arm, her legs tightening around his, her back arching a little bit like a cat unwilling to wake up fully just to stretch.

Her eyelids twitch, blink, then open. Her eyes underneath roll down, the pupil contracting in the glow of the arc reactor, then roll up, dilating again as they meet his.

Her lips curve slowly into a contented smile, then suddenly twist in a fierce yawn that cracks her jaw so loudly even he can hear it. Her hand rises to cover her mouth, then flops down on his chest, thumb hitting the metal of the arc reactor cover and slowly stroking back and forth over it.

Her eyelids slide closed again and she sighs. "G'morning."

And the sound of Pepper's voice rough and gravelly from sleep is so surprising that he can't help the bark of laughter.

She frowns at the jostle from his rising chest and lifts her head to glare at him. It might have been more effective, but her hair is a messy halo around her head and she looks about as threatening as a three-day-old kitten.

He continues to chuckle and she continues to glare until she realizes it isn't working and puts her claws into play. His breath huffs out as she pokes his side and he jerks forward and to the side, using the momentum as an excuse to roll over her and pin her down underneath himself.

"Good morning," he says and lowers his head to kiss her.

She limits it to just lips, refusing him more and he pulls back and frowns.

But it's pink along her cheekbones and her hand covering her mouth and the embarrassed mutter of, "Morning breath. Sorry," that she offers in response.

He can't help the grin and kisses her on the cheek, then lets her up when she pushes at his chest.

She takes the sheet with her to the bathroom, the white cotton tucked up high under her armpits in the front to cover her chest, but hanging low over her hips in the back.

It should look ridiculous and he should be amused that she's trying to hide from him what he'd seen—and touched—in glorious detail already, but somehow she manages to make it look like an evening gown in a 300-count Egyptian weave.

He stretches and lounges and gives passing thought to checking in with the business and scientific communities while he waits, but can't quite muster up the energy or desire to do so.

Plus, well, if Pepper's sleeping in was a mistake he knows it isn't going to be very pretty when she realizes it and he selfishly wants to put that off for as long as possible. That probably makes him a terrible human being and an even worse boyfriend, but he doesn't care.

It's been a long month of super-villains and not-so-super-villains and mediocre-villains and downright-embarrassingly-incompetent-and-non-threatening-villains and he just wants this one day with his girl. Is that so much to ask?

Hell, he'd take just the rest of the morning if it's all he can get.

He frowns. Though now he really is regretting sleeping in. Shit. Maybe there's something to that alarm clock nonsense.

Pepper comes back and his eyes flick to the wall display and then he curses himself for that because her eyes follow, but she just climbs back into the bed, lies down facing him on her side, mirroring his pose, and says, "So. Where were we?"

He smiles and leans forward for another kiss.

The thought occurs to him that he should follow her example and brush his teeth too, but when he tries to pull back she reaches a hand around to the back of his neck and refuses to let him escape.

"I don't think so," she says, though she hasn't quite disconnected, so it's a little muffled. "Whatever idea you had can wait."

She does pull back now enough to look him in the eye.

"I just—"

"No."

"But I—"

"No."

"Pep—"

She arches an eyebrow and he sighs in capitulation, then mentally shrugs. If it doesn't bother her, he won't let it bother him either.

She smiles in triumph and then leans in again, scooting across the bed so they aren't reaching any longer and draping herself over his body.

His hands find places on her hip and ass and she hums in contentment as she continues to explore the possibilities of what lips could do when they combine their talents.

Eventually they have to stop for air and to rest and she lays her head down on his chest again and strokes his side with her fingers, almost tickling, but not quite.

He contemplates the ceiling and life and how the hell he'd gotten so fucking lucky with her and feels like he might be nearing a breakthrough on that last one when JARVIS interrupts.

"I do apologize," he says and sounds impressively sincere, if Tony does say so himself, "but Director Fury is calling and—"

Tony's face scrunches up in disappointment as he opens his mouth to tell JARVIS to put it through, but Pepper speaks up first.

"Tell him we're not available."

There's a pause, then, "He is being quite insistent, Miss Potts. I'm sorry."

She lifts her head and scowls. "I don't care. He promised me twenty-four hours." Tony's eyebrows rise.

"He says that he understands that but—"

"Is the world ending?" she interrupts.

Another pause.

"No."

"Is Manhattan or some other major or minor metropolis in such danger that Tony not taking this call could _lead_ to the world being in danger?"

"No. He says that he needs to talk to Mister Stark about the Senate—"

"If the next words aren't 'being attacked by aliens or mole men' then you can tell him to call back tomorrow."

Tony can't help grinning because her words say 'call back tomorrow' but her voice says 'shove it up his ass'.

She turns to face him and her expression softens to one of almost embarrassment.

He leans forward to kiss the tip of her nose and rubs a hand up and down her back in reassurance.

The wall screen across from them flares to life as JARVIS stutters an apology and Pepper's grin is gone, anger in every line of her body as she rises to her feet in indignation, sheet once more wrapped around her body, though more like armor than an evening gown this time.

Or at least a toga, something Greek and reminiscent of Athena, Goddess of War.

Fury has barely opened his mouth when she stalks across the room and says, "You have reached the Life Model Decoy of Pepper Potts. She's not available at this time. Please leave your message at the tone. BEEEEEP."

Fury arches an eyebrow. "Your Life Model Decoy dresses in only a bed sheet?" he asks.

"It was designed by Tony Stark. Don't even act surprised."

He doesn't respond to that. "You're very angry for a Life Model Decoy," he says instead.

"The person I represent is pissed off because someone is breaking their promise to not call for twenty-four hours."

Fury sighs. "And I am sorry about that, but this is urgent."

"So leave it urgently," she says. "JARVIS."

The screen flickers off again and she stalks back to the bed and plops down, tension practically thrumming through her every muscle and sinew.

"JARVIS," she says after a moment to glare at the wall, "disconnect this floor from all outside communications. Allow only the Avengers with ten-point identity verification to access the elevator controls."

"Yes, Miss Potts," JARVIS obediently acknowledges.

Tony has turned on his side and propped himself up on pillows and his bent arm, watching her.

Now he dares to reach out and touch her arm, stroking up and down the length.

She trembles under his hand and he marvels at the strength of her feelings.

Finally, after at least three minutes of staring into space, lips pursed so tightly they've gone pale with blood loss, she turns to look at him.

Her anger immediately crumples into remorse.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that." She opens her mouth to, no doubt, undo the communications blackout and he quickly raises a hand to cover it and stop her.

"I don't mind. Really. I don't. In fact... can you teach me that?"

He can feel her smile and when he lowers his hand, he can see it too, genuine and amused and fucking gorgeous on her face.

"I don't need to teach you how to lock down your own tower, Tony," she says.

He shakes his head. "Not that. The part where you made Fury shut up."

She laughs, almost more giggle than full laugh and says, "I'm pretty sure that would not be in the best interests of the safety of the world."

Then she bends and kisses his nose as he had hers.

He reaches up and wraps an arm around her shoulders, pulling her down and over until she lies sprawled on top of him again.

The kisses are languid and easy at first, but quickly becomes frantic and desperate—and not in the way he's used to them doing so.

He pulls back finally and looks her in the eye, panting as he tries to figure out what's going on.

It isn't passion that fills her eyes, makes them glow with heat and want, but fear, cold and needy and dark.

"Pepper?" he asks.

He gets one horrifying glimpse of tears before she puts her head down on his chest. One hand lays between her forehead and his arc reactor, the other around his side and it tightens as if she's suddenly afraid of being ripped away from him.

He secures his arms around her in response, kisses the top of her head, and says, "It's okay. I'm here, Pepper. I'm right here."

God, he has no idea what's wrong or how to fix it, so he just does the only thing he could think of and holds onto her so she knows he isn't going anywhere.

When liquid warmth runs from her hand onto the skin of his chest, he swallows thickly and looks to the ceiling again as if he might find answers there.

It's unfortunately—and frustratingly—blank.

She begins to shake under his hands and he silently curses and squeezes tighter and then she turns her head to the side and lets out the most godawful sob.

It's only the first and they come thick and fast and each one breaks his heart a little more, especially because he has no idea what has _caused_ them.

Finally she quiets, hiccups and a few last tears the only remnants.

She sits up and wipes at her face, puffy and red from the exertion and the salty water that still runs and drips down her face in defiance of her attempts to dry it.

She finally gives up and shakes her head. "I'm sorry." Her nose is stuffed and her voice clogged as she sniffles.

"Hey, don't be," he says, hands on her arms, rubbing up and down. He brings them down to her hands, squeezes, then brings them to his lips, kissing one set of knuckles, then the other.

She smiles and laughs and looks skyward. "God, I'm such a mess," she breathes.

"Indeed," he says and she looks down with a somewhat amused glare. "And while I'm usually more adept at making them, not fixing them, I am willing to try." He waits a beat then says, "What's up?"

She sniffs again and tries to dry her face again, this time using the corner of her sheet with slightly more success.

"I don't want you to feel bad."

And, okay, when Pepper says that to him, it's never a good thing, because, hello.

"Okay," he says, trying not to make it sound wary.

"I just..." She looked out the window at the city spread at their feet and sighed.

She looks back and says, "I do not want you to think that I want you to quit. Because I don't. I know why you feel the need to go out there and save people. I do. And I am so incredibly proud of you for doing it. You have come a long way from the man who first hired me as his personal assistant and, though I liked that man, I like this one right here even more."

He can't resist snorting.

"It's true," she says. "I wouldn't have said yes to your offer if I didn't think you were a good person, Tony. It was just..." She shrugs. "Buried under a lot of grief and self-doubt and other things that no one would believe of you, but that I could clearly see."

Tony marveled at her words, and not because he thought they were false, but because he knew, somehow, that they weren't.

Seriously, how fucking lucky was he to have her?

"And now you're ten times the man I saw then. And I can't even take the credit for it because it wasn't my doing. It was you," she says, poking his chest. "It was all you."

Embarrassment and vulnerability and nakedness like he's never felt even when his ass has been plastered across national news channels floods through him, but she just cups his cheek and leans in close and says, "It was all you."

She kisses him then, sweet and soft and he'd have been afraid he was having a heart attack or something if he hadn't been enjoying this so much.

She pulls back and smiles and he can't help returning it.

Then she sits up again, the smile fading.

Her eyes shift away again, this time toward the floor away from the windows. Her lips pull down into a frown and he can almost _see_ the worry add lines to her face.

It breaks his heart.

He takes her hand in his and holds it close to his chest, but she just stares at the floor and shakes her head a little.

"I know that you're safer in the suit. I know that you have the other Avengers to watch your back and that as a team you are practically invincible. I don't doubt you or them. It's just..."

Her voice chokes up at the end and the tears come back in a sparkling overflow, and her hand shakes in his. He doesn't even think she's aware that she presses her hip against his more firmly.

"Even knowing you're safe and whole from the news reports, I like to..." She huffs. "It's not real. Of all people I know how the news can lie. How some details aren't released to the public before they are to the relevant parties involved. I _know_ how to contain the media and control the flow of information," and she sounds mad about that, like it's some kind of defect or fault on her part.

"I know that and so even though you look okay and JARVIS says you're okay and Phil says you're okay I just... I can't believe it until I see it for myself."

She looks at him now. "Until I can touch you and see you and hear you tell me that you're fine and it wasn't really a dragon it just looked like one and it didn't breathe fire anyway, just a lot of smoke. Until then..." She sniffs. "Well."

He tugs on her arm and she gives in without hesitation, allowing him to pull her down to his chest and wrap her up in his arms. He turns on his side and shifts them about until they're spooning, bringing her inside his personal bubble as much as is humanly possible.

When his chin rests on her shoulder, his arms overlaying hers across her chest and stomach, and their legs are tangled enough to represent a hazard if they need to move quickly for some reason, he says, "I'm sorry."

She shakes her head and cranes it so she's almost looking back at him. "Don't apologize. I'm not— I said I don't want you to quit or feel bad and I don't."

"I know," he says. "But I'm still sorry that I make you worry."

He kisses her shoulder and she turns her hand around and squeezes his.

"I just wanted one day to have you all to myself. It's selfish, but I don't care."

He hugs her and nuzzles her ear. "And have it you shall."

She looks back at him again. "Really?"

He nods, as serious as he's ever been. "I promise."

She smiles and gives a wet laugh and says, "Okay."

It isn't the only thing they do that day, but in his opinion, the next hour of laying in bed and letting the world pass them by is one of the most enjoyable he's had in years.


End file.
